The Woo's of Spinning Slides and Jelly Donuts
by RaspBerryStars
Summary: Ben understands it's wrong to show favoritism, and if Leslie wasn't smiling at him the way she is, he might regret it. But she is, so he doesn't. Leslie/Ben


**Title:** The Woo's of Spinning Slides and Jelly Donuts  
**Author:** quick_ly  
**Fandom:** _Parks and Recreation_  
**Pairing:** Leslie/Ben  
**Rating:** a very light PG-13  
**Warnings:** Spoilers for the end of season 2  
**Summary:** Ben understands it's wrong to show favoritism, and if Leslie wasn't smiling at him the way she is, he might regret it. But she is, so he doesn't.  
**Disclaimer:** Nope, _Parks and Recreation _is sadly not mine.  
**A/N:** Yes, another Leslie/Ben fic. I know I should maybe try and branch out and write something else, but the thing is I want to read a lot more Leslie/Ben so I've got to be far and write a lot more Leslie/Ben, because, at least for me, makes you want to write a couple more then reading a really well written fic about said ship and thinking _I can do that!_ The only problem is that this isn't that great so I don't think I'll be inspiring anyone anytime soon. Oh, well. I like writing these two in general, so it's all good. Okay, I'll stop ranting now.

_**.  
**_

She calls him Benjy.

It's Friday, exactly one week since Leslie became essential, and they're just getting out of a long meeting, one of those meetings that _really_ seems to go on forever (Ben suddenly gets a in high-school flashback to when they're about to get out for summer and he's counting every minute because _it's summer vacation!_), and Leslie smiling at his with that special smile of hers, and he knows precisely the reason why; it's because today was the day that they talked about Parks, and somehow the budget only got cut by 5 percent.

Ben knows it's kinda his fault, because he held off Parks until late in the day when most people just wanted to _get out_, and every time Leslie gave one of her inspirational speeches as to why they simply _can't cut this_, he would let her win that round (even when it turned into _rounds_), and somehow by the end of it all, they've only managed to cut food for company parties and that new spinning slide for the park on Karleton street.

Ben understands it's wrong to show favoritism, and if Leslie wasn't smiling at him the way she is, he might regret it. But she is, so he doesn't.

No, he certainly doesn't regret it when she walks up to him after the meeting, still wearing that infamous smile, and says in a cheery voice "nice work today, Benjy."

And maybe he should show favoritism more often, because Ben seriously can't remember the last time he actually liked being called _Benjy_.

_**.**_

Ben likes Leslie. As a coworker, of course.

She's nice and bright and full of sunshine. She brings him coffee as an excuse to have a lengthy discussion about the importance of playgrounds, saying that without them the modern child would likely be unable to understand the turmoils of society and end up selling porn online (Ben questions if she actually knows anyone who sells porn online as a result of withdrawal from playgrounds, and Leslie replies with an uncertain _yes_.) She's serious about her job and the people she works with, and Ben can't remember the last time he met someone in government who gave as much of a shit as Leslie does.

She also sometimes-kinda-flirts with him, or at least he thinks so.

(Or hopes so. Ben can't tell which one it is.)

He thinks she flirted with him at the bar. She laughed whenever he _sorta_ made a joke and said he was cute (even if she was talking about the 18 year old him). She paid for the beer and sang his swearing-in song and smiled this little smile that said something he couldn't put his finger on.

(Ben knows her better now, has seen the smile many times, and thus has decided that it means something along the lines of _I like you, Ben_.

Or is it _I like you, Benjy_?)

She could have been flirting when Freddy Spaghetti sang, but then again, that might have just been him.

But Leslie simply _had_ to be flirting with him when she said "nice work today, Benjy." What else could that mean? (He briefly considers that it could mean his work today was nice, but quickly brushes that thought away, because that's what sentences like "nice work today, _Ben_" are for.)

But he's thinking about this way too much, because Ben likes Leslie as a coworker only, and whether or not she's been flirting with him has no importance in his life.

(It's a lie if Ben ever met one.)

_**.**_

On Sunday, Ben finds himself in a smelly police station, where Leslies trying to prove that Pawnee's beloved force has been getting jelly donuts for their meetings, and so it's only fair that the Emergency Budget Task Force should get jelly donuts for _their_ meetings.

Ben doesn't really like jelly or donuts, so there's little reason for him to be here. Then again, he does kind of like Leslie, so there's _some_ reason for him to be here.

And then there's some more.

As she's finishing up her list of reasons why donuts filled with jelly would help productivity (Ben finds it a bad sigh that he's actually listening to her), a quiet "oh my God, Dave" escapes her lips, and Ben suddenly finds his attention drawn to a police man with bright orange hair.

"Who is he?"

Leslie barley has enough time to say "my old boyfriend," before this Dave guy is walking over and making polite conversation, and all Ben can do is stare awkwardly, because he never imagined Leslie with someone like this. (He doesn't mean for it to sound so judgmental, it's just that Ben always pictured Leslie would go for the big government type, and this guy certainly isn't that.)

As _Dave_ walks away, Ben has to resist the urge to say "you dated him!" in a mean tone, and asks "why'd you guys break up" instead.

"He had to move away for work."

This doesn't make Ben feel any better.

_**.**_

She calls him at 11: 34 on a Saturday night, saying he has to come over to her house, _pronto_.

It's a mystery why he comes, but he does.

Ben expects to find her dressed in one of those Leslie-pantsuits she's always wearing, sitting on the couch and telling him about some amazing idea she's come up with that's going to _save everything_.

That's not what Ben finds.

Leslies laying on the couch in _sweats_ (_it's Leslie in sweats!_) and her shirts a little too tight and she's maybe a little drunk.

"Do you think I'm a failure, Benjy?" Okay, she's more then a little drunk.

He wonders why she called him. Leslie's friends with Ron and Tom and a bunch of other people Ben can't remember, and yet he's the one she called.

Maybe it's a mid-life crisis type thing, only she's not yet in her mid-life, and getting drunk once doesn't exactly count as a crisis. But it's close, it's got to be close, because people like Leslie Knope shouldn't be getting drunk for no reason, because people like Leslie Knope are better then that.

Right?

He's not entirely sure if any of that's true (it's probably not), so, in an effort to maybe make himself feel better, Ben takes one of the beers that's conveniently sitting on the table (a part of him knows she's had some of it – which oddly just makes Ben want it a bit more), and takes a huge swing. And then he takes another and another and _another_, and it's not long before they're slumped down at the side of the couch, Leslie eagerly listening while Ben tells stories of his days in office.

And then he looks at her, really looks at her, and realizes that it's moments like these, one's that involve stories and laughing and all around _happiness_, that make him not really want to leave Pawnee just yet (or ever), and that it's great that there are people out there who actually give a damn about things like spinning slides and jelly donuts and 18 year olds who get elected mayor, and that it's great that out of all this, he seems to really have found a true friend.

And then he kisses her and all thoughts of friendship go out the window.

A small part of him, probably the only of his brain that isn't focused on unclasping Leslie's bra, knows that it shouldn't happen this way, because he really likes her and she might really like him, and having drunk-sex at 1:26 in the morning isn't exactly what mature adult who like each other should be doing, but the thing is that Ben doesn't care that he's drunk because he really, really likes her and honestly can't remember the last time he did something like this (because when you're trying the fix the reputation the 18 year old you left laying around, saying away from things like this becomes a bit of a priority.)

_**.**_

They don't tell people, although it happens more then once.

Over the course of the next few days, it happens a lot more then once.

And Ben sees no end in sight.


End file.
